


Monsters

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Dark, Derogatory Language, F/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-11-24 08:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: He fascinated her, always had, even before he was officially her assignment.  He treated her well, but she sometimes preferred to conjure up that monstrous part of him he so carefully tried to cover up.





	Monsters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/gifts).



She woke up on the floor.

She laid there for a long time before summoning the effort to push herself to her feet, wincing as she did so.  She looked down at her bruises, the scratches where he dug his nails into her sides, and sighed.  She gingerly untangled the blanket from her body, and stumbled to the bathroom.

She washed the abrasion on the side of her forehead, swished some tapwater in her mouth and spat it out, tinged pink, splashed water on her face to wake herself up more.  She’d have to take off from work, because with how she looked there’d be questions.  She smiled at a hypothetical conversation with a concerned coworker.  Yes, he hit her.  She was asking for it. Literally. 

Jack tried to be a good guy.  She did not want that, not all the time.  When she was first assigned to him, to get him attached and lead him around, _they_ had asked her repeatedly if she was sure she wanted _him_.  Yes, they did their best to file off the sharp edges, but was she sure she wanted to commit to living with him? It was inherently dangerous getting close to him, was the mission okay with her?

Of course it was.

Maybe she was fucked in the head, but she wanted Jack, unfiltered.  Not all the time, of course.  He was good to her, and she didn’t want to lose that.  But she also wanted to see the real him, push him until the he stopped hiding himself.  And she was good at pushing the buttons.  He was sweet, really.  He was always sorry when it happened, when his anger cooled and what he did to her sank in.

So he tried to avoid it.  But it was easy to set him off, and she was very good at baiting him.  And after Desperado, he had become so much edgier.  Vague, uneasy bits of him, things he wanted to forget, had become clearer.  And obviously, she loved reminding him.  Cuddling and dirty talk could turn into the best sort of Hell very quickly. 

* * *

_All things considered, he should've been warned because John was out at a friends house. She engineered that--Jack would _never_ expose their son to the real him, and neither would she. They were good parents like that._

__

_“Tell me about your first time.” She had asked him last night, while he was kissing her neck.  The thought had struck her at work—given his past it had to be something she could use.  The way he stopped, went stiff was a tell._

_He had tried to divert the subject, but she gently pressed in all the right ways, slowly ‘realizing’ that maybe Jack’s first time had been traumatic, then when he sat on the edge of the bed, she threw an arm around him and said that if it was something bad she wouldn’t judge him_.

_Even after all she’d done, somehow he still trusted her when she said that._

* * *

She found him sitting at the kitchen table, likely having sat there ever since they finished.  He had some scratches on his face—she did that while he was fucking her.  When she sat across from him, he looked up at her, pale as a sheet.  “Rose, I…”

She leaned forward and hooked an arm around his neck, making sure he was pressed against that bruise he left on her collarbone.  Despite _everything_ he felt bad about hurting her.  She savored it.  He was perfectly caring, considerate, and a monster.  He was a wonderfully broken mess, and she loved him for it.  With the right prompting he’d brutalize her, then treat her like a goddess the next morning.

She knew all the right prompts.

And she was always finding new ones.  His first time wasn’t consensual, of course not.  The surprising thing was _he_ wasn’t the victim.  He was shaking when he described it, not unlike how he was right now.

* * *

_“She was a reward?” Rose asked, appropriately feigning shock as she repeated Jack’s words.  It was during his childhood, after some fight so brutal that his ‘godfather’ had decided to give the survivors a 'morale boost.’  And the older boys had egged ‘Jack the Ripper’ on.  He was hesitant, strung out, and not in the best of places.  He watched—they made him watch them take their turns with the woman, before they decided that he deserved a turn, too._

_Peer pressure was a helluva thing, apparently._

_Jack was staring far away, shaking.  It wouldn’t take that much more pushing, she could tell.  “What did you do to her?”_

_He tried to sidestep it, though he admitted that he had raped her.  That wasn’t what she was asking, she wanted a description.  His hesitated, but she worked her magic, a bit of a step back, maybe it’d be therapeutic to talk about it.  The other boys had held the woman down, and then… When did they tear her clothes off?  How many went first?_

_“Did you like it?”_

_“What? No!” He started on a long winded explanation when he was cut off when her hand fell on his crotch.  Sometimes, it never ceased to surprise him that she wound him up like this._

_“It was very brave of you to admit that.”  She said, trying her best comforting voice.  Then she grinned ear-to-ear as she rubbed the hardness underneath his boxers and asked “I think you deserve a rewardl.”_

_That was the straw that broke the camel’s back apparently.  Because next thing she knew, she was on the ground, a hand grabbing a fistful of her hair, shoving her facedown into the carpet.  The pain as he pulled, growling in her ear “Rose, I’m warning you?”_

_“Or else what? You going to call some friends to hold me down?”_

_She saw stars when her forehead bounced against the floor.  He practically yanked her to a kneeling position tearing at her top, then he lifted her to her feet with enough violence that she bounced against a wall, aching at the while._

_She scratched him a little, put up a fight to keep him pissed.  He used his body to pin her against the wall, grasping her roughly, swearing in her ear.  She felt teeth against her neck as nails ran down her back to the waistband of her pants.  They ripped, then she was back on the floor.  As she tried to push herself up, pulling on the sheets of the bed for support,  she was flipped onto her back and her shoulders were pinned down with a surprising amount of force.  Jack wasn’t making much sense with his ravings.  What did make sense was the crazed look in his eyes._

_She tried to struggle out from under him, managing to shove herself away enough for him to grab a leg and drag her right back against him._

_When he slid a hand between her legs, under her panties, his eyes widened.  She felt a thrill run up her spine at the growl of “You’re fucking wet.”_

_She shuddered when he shoved his fingers in roughly, calling her demeaning names which she probably deserved.  What kind of sick, crazy bitch was she?  The kind that wanted what he was giving her.  She scratched at him and thrashed in a convincing parody of a struggle, bracing herself when he pulled his hand out of her and raised it._

_She saw stars again._

_While she ran a hand along her cheek, where he struck her, he pried her legs apart, with violence and speed.  He grabbed her underwear and tore it off—she made sure to wear a cheap pair tonight—then slapped her right between her legs.  That made her yelp and she drew her limbs up, only for Jack to pry her open again.  He shoved himself in, again commenting on what a sick fuck she was for enjoying this over the sound of her moans.  When Jack was right, he was right._

_She rocked against him as he drove into her wildly, growling obscenities as he fucked her senseless.  She egged him on until he planted a forearm across her throat and pressed down, blocking her ability to continue throwing out comments.  She gurgled as he yelled at her, spittle flying against her face, was this what she wanted?  Was this what she wanted?_

_If she could speak, she's say 'yes'._

_He kept driving in, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder, driving deeper and hardeer as spots danced across his eyes and he became more incoherent.  Things were going dark while he fucked her relentlessly.  She wasn’t sure if he was enjoying himself or not, only that he was trying to hurt her, make her regret what she’d said._

_Strange, because she was getting precisely what she wanted._

_She came while on the verge of blacking out.  At some point after that, he must’ve let her go, because she woke as he was still slamming into her.  He’d stopped swearing, just fucking her while glaring at her angrily.  He was out of her as soon as he finished, pulling himself free and getting to his feet and stamping out of the room._

_She curled up, hand between her legs, and fell asleep on the floor._  

* * *

“I’m sorry.” Jack said against skin he’d sworn at, to a person he called a psychopathic cunt a few hours again.  He sounded pitiful, and maybe pity was what she was feeling when she ran fingers through his hair.  “I… shouldn’t have done that.” 

He never blamed her for his actions, because good people didn’t blame the victim. 

And Jack wanted, no, he needed to pretend he was a good person, that ‘Jack the Ripper’ wasn’t roiling under the surface.  She pulled away slightly and kissed his cheek, right at the line where skin yielded to cybernetics.  “It’s alright, really.”

“No it’s not.” He insisted, looping an arm around her back, bruised by his rough handling.  “I lost my temper and could’ve…”

He definitely _could_ kill her with his bare hands, even if he wasn't superhumanly strong.  But he never _would_ do that, because after everything she did, he needed this, even if he didn’t know it.  Maybe he thought he needed forgiveness, and she would always forgive him.  “You weren’t yourself.”

That was a lie.  That was Jack, with all the desperation to be 'normal' discarded for one moment of time.  If he needed to think of himself a good person who made mistakes, she could do help.  Because when he tried to be a good person he treated her well, and when he didn't... she liked that.  She wanted Jack to be Jack, and if he needed to be told comforting lies afterward, she’d indulge him.  And he needed someone who wanted the monster, and she would happily indulge them both.

He was studying her, looking like a scared little boy.  He’d hurt her this time, but she waved it off—she was grateful the wincing and stiffness that last night had caused were getting sympathy from Jack.  He’d never bring up what she said, only what he did.  Which left things open to say more things later, when Jack wasn’t feeling so terrible about it.  Maybe if this happened enough, she wouldn’t have to keep pushing Jack to get what she wanted out of him.

That would be good.

Standing up, she shuddered at the protest in her back.  She’d lie to him some more, make things better, set him back on his road to normalcy, and then do it all over again.  Jack had done awful things, and she’d keep bringing the beast to the fore; he was the only person she could ever do this to.  And she was the only one he could be himself with.  She felt him relax a little when she kissed him and said “I love you.”

For a liar like her, that line always was the truth. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a fascinatingly unsettling idea--what if Rose was attracted to Jack _because_ of his awful, awful past. Hopefully I did the idea justice.


End file.
